SRPING BREAK!

OK. I am on spring break now which means I am in that state to the south in the great Port City. In fact I am reading an evocative novel about the old Port City - The White Shadow. It's about Jimmy Wall and the local mafia. Much of the action takes place in the newspaper room downtown and in Ybor City. We lived around the corner from Jimmy Wall - I think he was the nephew of the one in the book. A few blocks north was the house of Sam Tafficante, also a character in the book. By the time we got there Ybor had lost most of its Latin population and was becoming shopworn. As was Hyde Park. New Suburb Beautiful, where we lived, was affordable and was right on the edge of Palma Ceaia - home of "The Country Club School," as my high school was known.

Good novel. Folks on Amazon thought it was a bit too detailed but the layering of detail simply builds up a sense of time and place. And the old port in the 50s and 60s was sui generis, believe me.

Perhaps with a bit more time I will be able to write some longer posts. Facebook just doesn't do it in that respect.

I'm sorry I left you....

... the blog that is. I had temporarily sought new fields among the Facebook crowd. Quick and easy. No thought required. And in fact, none really allowed when you consider the format. Cinco is still trying to turn it into a platform for an extended development for his political thought. Isn't going to work. It's great for maintaining contact with lost friends, family, and other groups but you are not going to be able to say much more than "Hi. Just had a grilled cheese sandwich."

So, I should pay more attention to Sententiae. I've been at it for years now and it serves its purpose for me even though the day of the blog seems to have passed and the few readers I had have passed on to other venues. Or simply lost interest.

It looks like a busy semester though - it is certainly starting off with a bang with six job candidates coming to our department in the first two weeks. There is a lot of work involved, much of it work I detest.

Look forward to a spurt of posts as I desperately try to procrastinate.

you know I can do it!

The Left Speaks!

Well, the Rightist speaks on the left's behalf over on my new favorite blog, crack skull bob.

The artist's left hand goes out of control and commits a comic strip on love. Here is the explanation the Rightist gives:

This was a comic drawn many years ago by my left hand unbeknownst to the rest of my body. This was a frequent problem during my youth, my left hand being sullen and resentful because of the adulation showered upon my right hand. Kind of a Left of Eden scenario. Righty got to do all the spectacular cross-hatching and trumpet-fingering and imperious gesticulating, while Lefty was given menial jobs such as holding my penis while I urinated. Over the years he has mellowed somewhat, but every so often I will feel a vicious pinch on my left side, and will have to stop what I'm doing and stroke my left hand gently, crooning "Never you mind, left hand. Never you mind."

In my own corporeal dispensation it is the other way around. Occasionally I take the right hand out for a trot around the writing pad just so it won't get too sulky.

Though it shouldn't since I grew up in a rightist imperialistic dictatorship (aka the family) that forced, forced I say, me to learn to play all sports with the right hand.

PBS! PBS!

Brother-in-law joke.

A simple question from Pat Robertson. Carmen will understand.

at least he is not appearing in the Republican debates this time.

It's academic now...

This morning which should have been afternoon except for the blessing of daylight savings time Carmen asked me a question that I am sure comes up around your breakfast table from time to time.

"Where did the expression "Ye gods and little fishes come from?"

I pondered this for a moment and replied, as is my wont, "How the %^$& should I know!"

Then we both ran off to the Machine and googled it.

No definitive answer. But there is a very British, and VERY academic article on the Oxford Journal web page. I read it out loud to Carmen in my plummiest voice and we discovered that it is also howlingly funny.

Just read it.

bloody scholars

AND ..... just before Midnight of 5 November!

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November
Gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot."

Taught to me many years ago by English Will.

Barely got that one in on time.

I know. The story of my life.

I haven't done anything with movies for awhile...

.... so, since I am taking today off here it is.

The 15 worst movie titles of all time. In English anyway.

Who can forget "Santa Clause Conquers the Martians."
Who knew the jolly old elf was an imperialist warmonger.

Or "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies."
Apparently, a musical.

And "Freddy Got Fingered."
With a subtitle of "This Time You Can't Change the Channel," which sounds like a threat. Once you are in the theatre - you're stuck!

Last night Carmen and I saw "Puss n Boots" with Miggs, Maeraed and Murty. It was fun. Miggs especially liked the sword fights. I liked the flamenco dancing. Maire was off in Charlotte doing wild things like drinking whiskey and visiting museum gift shops.

Enjoy your next movie.

no matter how bad the title.

Two interesting news bits I heard today.

1. Muammar Ghadaffi was dead.

2. Beer helps prevent osteoporosis.

I think you can see the next line coming.

Just because I like it

Do I need another reason.

What? It's my blog.

Who am I writing for?

Sometimes this is a good question. I have often wondered when I do my Matins, my morning writing for 30 minutes (too often they turn out to be Nones or Vespers). It is a fast write of stream of consciousness thoughts. In fact sometimes they are not so much thoughts as simply whatever my hand does - kinetic thought. Yet I always end them with "That's all for today, folks." That is the way I end most of my lectures but why do I use it for my writings? The ones that are supposed to be virtually unconscious and for no one? I started doing it years ago for no reason I was aware of.

Joseph O'Neill explained it in The Atlantic last month, to my delight. We write "to find respite from the intellectually and morally chaotic buffoon who goes through the world minute by minute, and to bring into being that better, more coherent human entity known as the author."

There are always two people, the 'folks', reading what I write. Me the author and me the reader. They aren't exactly the same person.

though they are close friends.

Clemen's notebook

I want this where I can find it for class. It is an interesting map of the ethno-linguistic state of Europe in 1914. After August of that year things changed rapidly. It's a bit large.

Personal stuff

Well, Carmen and I are back. And you didn't even notice we were gone.

That visit to the unnamed state to our south was filled with the usual fun n games, capped by temps in the 90, a deluge of epic proportions (while we were on the road) and my mother's 92nd birthday. Why yes, she's fine. Still makes more sense than most of the family who are much younger (though not as much as it used to seem - when I was born I was 1/30 her age, now I am 2/3 her age).

So - onward to another delightful year at a university that is going broke because the good folks of North Carolina figure that paying for their children's education is optional. At least by using taxes. They will pay for it one way or another whether or not their own kids go to college or simply start working at McDonald's or Wal-Mart.

just as soon as the Republicans can get rid of the minimum wage that is clearly dragging down the economy.

Personal note

We arrived in that unnamed port city to the south, aka the sweltering hell hole. Hard to believe we made the troops come down to this place to hang around Palma Ceia until we were ready to send them off to invade Cuba.

Anyway, everything is fine. Went to Inkwood book store and spent a lot of money buying books neither of us have time to read. Then off to Mother's.

Depending on how I feel, this either means I will be posting a lot this week, or not at all. Too soon to tell.

But it is hotter than blue blazes down here. Tomorrow, Long Boat Key.

on the whole, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.

New words

I like vocabulary, mainly because I actually have one. So I am always on the lookout for new words and expressions.

Here's one now: Mood mail.

It means sending e-mail when you are angry. It's a no-no. And dangerous.

also self-indulgent which Clemens is never guilty of.

.

A brief personal interlude

I am temporarily down south in the unnamed port city. It has been chilly. Actually, it's been pretty damn cold. Nothing quite like back home in Wilkesboro though. Bad enough though. We took two nights to get here so we could spend some quality time together with the little lummox in the Greyhound Flats of Beaufort, SC. I'll write about that on that other blog, but we had a great time.

We are here in the great port for another few days then back up to the Great White North, formerly known as Western North Carolina. Until then I may or may not spend much time blogging.

Oh yes. I am also trying to figure out how to set up my new Kindle e-reader that Carmen got me for Christmas. Text on it looks great.

Lord knows I haven't spent any time sending out Christmas cards.

How to get input, academic style.

A couple of years ago our administration here at AppState, as it likes to be called, rammed a new general ed reform down our throats after some very careful consultation with us. No, that's actually the term they used.

I read this little article today about the National Park Service consulting the public after their plans for the security of the Washington Monument with a distinct feeling of deja-vu all over again.

Read 'em an weep, if you are a fellow faculty member.

for some strange reason the administrator who inflicted this reform on us immediately left for a better paying job somewhere else. Before the foo-foo hit the rotary device.

I shouldn't complain: the admin has done much worse than this. Recently.

It goes without saying.

But they had to say it.

Click here.

Just sayin'.

Golden Age of Comics

Once upon a time, long long ago, I wanted to be a comic book artist. Something in me still does, but it usually keeps pretty quiet, except when I come across blogs like this one.

I am sticking it here so I can go back and wander through it whenever I want.

I think our little friend Mr Miggs would love some of these old illustrations.

.

PhD humor

from Andrew Sullivan, from this place. It's somewhat autobiographical for Clemens.